Cuts and Bruises
by Blue Dartwing
Summary: It was the first time Reaver had felt inclined to shoot a tree. Probably the last time, too.


"Reaver!"

A shrill, young voice cut through the morning air in Bowerstone Castle's gardens, reaching the ears of a certain deviant sitting outside reading the papers. He sighed, mainly to keep up appearances, and looked up to see a small, blonde, seven-year-old girl with large brown eyes hurtling towards him, tears streaming out of said eyes, gingerly holding her wrist.

Reaver was the princess' first port of call should she get injured. Not her mother, not her father, not her half-brother, Reaver's own son, but an immortal sexual deviant with more kills under his belt than she'd had hot dinners. Ever since he had returned her to her mother, three years ago, after she'd ventured from the castle and been found by his thugs, she had dogged him like a cute adoring follower, stealing his Dragonstomper, demanding he read to her, and pulling him out on long walks around the garden, whereby she usually ended up asleep on his chest beneath a tree. Oh, he wouldn't trade that princess for an older one who wanted sex from him.

She skidded to a halt in front of him, and Reaver wondered lazily who he needed to shoot. Because if anyone made her cry, there would be punishment apportioned.

"I tripped over," Tallusa said, sniffing, showing him her arm. Reaver held it between his fingers, examining the damage with a sympathetic sound.

She had a cut on the underside of her arm that was long, but not too deep, and a few prickles from where holly leaves had pierced the skin.

"Where did you get this from, my sweet?" he asked gently, and Tallusa pointed tearfully at a tree in the middle of the garden.

A plant. He was shooting a ruddy plant. How dare it mar the skin of his precious Tallusa!

Reaver pulled out his pistol and shot the tree, scaring the pants off of the labourers cutting the hedges. One man swore colourfully as he dropped his shears on his feet at the sound.

"He said a bad word," the princess whispered.

"He did indeed," Reaver agreed. "Excuse me!" he called to the unfortunate worker. "There are little ears around! Mind your tongue, man!"

The man apologised and hurriedly moved away.

"There, now we've told a rude man off and I've paid back the tree for marring your precious skin," Reaver soothed.

"I want a hug," Tallusa sobbed, holding her arms out. Reaver lifted her onto his lap, ignoring the fact that when she put her arms around him, the blood on her arm stained his jacket. It didn't matter. He had hundreds more, and amending the suffering of this little girl came first.

He pulled her arm from around him so that both of her hands were in her lap. He pulled his handkerchief from out of his pocket and bound it around the wound.

"There," he said grandly, "now you have a bandage worthy of any brave soldier."

"I want to marry a soldier!" Tallusa chirped, the wound forgotten. Reaver laughed.

"I thought you were going to marry Elliot?" he asked. She made a sound to show that she remembered. Then she smiled brightly.

"He could become a soldier!" she suggested cheerfully. "An' I could marry him much happier then!"

"You want a man in uniform, then?" Reaver asked, grinning. "Have your heart set on a soldier, do you?"

She nodded vigorously, swinging her legs to and fro.

"'Cause soldiers are brave, an' they protect people, an' daddy was a soldier, an' he's _really _brave!" she enthused, spreading her arms widely. She gazed up at him adoringly. "I bet _you're_ really brave _too_, Reaver!"

"_Mon cher_!" Reaver laughed. "I am no brave man. I was a _pirate_, _mon enfant_, I sailed the high seas plundering ships and their cargo!"

"I bet you were a dashin' pirate!" Tallusa giggled. "An' you had lots of girls who liked you!"

"Oh yes," the ex-pirate preened, "_lots_. Including your own mother!"

"An' that's how Logan was born!" Tallusa cackled. Reaver looked startled for a moment, then lapsed into a grin. Of course _Sparrow_ would teach her daughter that when a man and a woman cuddled in a special way, babies were made. She was candid like that.

"Not all soldiers and guards are brave, you know," he said, suddenly becoming serious. He was remembering _quite_ a different breed of law enforcement that he'd met a long time ago.

"Aren't they?" she asked, shocked.

"No. Let me tell you about the Spire Guards and the Spire Soldiers…" he began.

* * *

"…And that's how your daddy met your mummy," Reaver finished, several hours later. "When I met your mummy, she was covered in scars from those people."

Tallusa frowned.

"But they weren't real guards at all!" she burst out. "They were cruel and mean! They were…they were slavers! An' Lucien is stupid!"

"He's also dead, thank goodness," Reaver reassured her. "He fell several hundred feet with a bullet hole through his head and bullet in his brain."

"Well….good!" Tallusa enthused. "He was a bad man!" She cocked her head sideways and looked curiously at Reaver. "Reaver," she began, "mummy said you did some bad things when you were a lot younger."

"I did a lot of bad things," Reaver replied tonelessly. "Your mother has no business airing other people's laundry."

"Oh!" Tallusa cried. "I'm sorry. Don't get upset!" she begged. "I'll tell mummy not to…not to…not to air…what's laundry?" she finally asked.

"Dirty clothes," Reaver informed her, a smile tugging at his lips.

"Yuck," the princess stated, wrinkling her nose. She held up her arm. "Do you think I have any scars?"

"Dear girl, I hope not!" Reaver gasped.

"I want to check!" she giggled, and pulled the handkerchief off. They both gazed at her arm in wonder.

Where there had been cuts and blood, there was now only smooth, creamy brown skin, as soft as any other child's.

"Natural Heroic healing ability…" Reaver murmured softly.

"I don't have a scar!" Tallusa announced, half surprised, half upset.

"Now, now, little Tallu," Reaver soothed, "there is more to life than looking like a rugged blonde soldier."

"Ooh! Can I marry one of those?" Tallusa asked.

"But Elliot isn't blonde," Reaver pointed out. Tallusa shrugged.

"I don't _have_ to marry Elliot…do I?" she asked, somewhat dubiously.

"No, I'm certain you won't have to," Reaver reassured her.

"Let's go inside, it's getting cold!" Tallusa suddenly said, and offered Reaver her hand. He took it, smiling, and they made their way inside.

Rugged blonde soldiers, eh?

Look out, Albion Royal Army.

* * *

**A/N So you mad people like my Tallusa fics. In fact, you all seem to lap them up! Well, I can't say I dislike the attention! **

**Everyone was asking me to write more, so I've tried my best. Have some seven-year-old Tallusa and Reaver.**

**My favourite part, personally, was the bit where Reaver bandaged up her arm with his handkerchief, because, when I was little, (all those centuries ago) whenever I fell over, my father always used to pull out his handkerchief and make a bandage out of it. Those were the days when your daddy bandaged your wounds!**

**It's a fond childhood memory for me-the bandaging, not falling over (I did a lot of that, and falling out of trees too) so that's why I wrote it in.**

**Rugged blonde soldiers? Hello Mr Finn, you're going to be a hot commodity...**

**Happy reading! **

**Lizabetta**


End file.
